


Heat

by monchy



Series: The Red Button [3]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monchy/pseuds/monchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin screws up, again... and then there's shameless porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

You didn’t want to do it, you really didn’t. But it was just so big and so red, and if somebody asks you, you would say that it was palpitating and calling your name. Oh, wait, they did ask, they just didn’t believe you. But you’re going a little bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you? You should start right at the beginning of this story, which you will title ‘How Anakin screwed up again or why buttons shouldn’t be red.'.  
  
The day started just as any other: you trying to make Obi-Wan stay longer in bed, he trying to resist, and you obviously winning; you can be very persuasive when you want to, after all. And so, the day began. The new wing of the Temple had been under construction for what seemed like ages, but it was finally finished, and the two of you had been invited to take a welcoming tour. You aren’t exactly sure why the Temple needed a new wing (there had been an explanatory meeting on the subject, but you had been too busy ogling at Obi-Wan at the time to actually pay attention), but a visit didn’t seem like such a terrible thing, right? Wrong.  
              
The tour was boring, so boring that it made you think of one of Obi-Wan’s lectures as a more interesting prospect. Thinking about that, of course, had not been a smart thing to do, because your mind had gone to that time in which you jumped Obi-Wan in the middle of a lecture, which had finished with ropes and begging and… well, just some things you’re not supposed to be thinking about while Mace Windu, of all people, is giving a speech on modern architecture and the different shades of white in the rooms. Really, it’s just white.  
              
But that, well, that you could have endured, but what really bothered you in this whole business was, oh yes, her. The Bitch. Your worst enemy and rival for Obi-Wan’s affections. Pffft, as if she could take him away from you. First of all, Obi-Wan is yours. Really, he is; it says so, on his left buttock, which was grazed by your initials (AS) in black ink, during a very drunken interlude (he had been so angry after that… which, of course, had only lead to more tying up and begging for you). Of course, The Bitch doesn’t know that, because she is going nowhere near Obi-Wan’s buttocks, thankyouverymuch. Then, there’s the fact that she’s like… what? Four hundred years old? Get a grip woman, and die already! Or, well, she doesn’t really have to die, she just has to keep her filthy hands as far away from Obi-Wan as possible.  
              
The thing is, you can’t really trust Obi-Wan to take care of himself, because he’s just naturally sexy and charming, a fact he doesn’t seem to be aware of, and which leads certain people to believe that their advances are welcomed. Which they aren’t. The good part is that most of them only need a glare or a little chat to get the message (well, not Master Vos, who insists on flirting with both of you, and proposing a threesome… but that’s Quinlan for you, you guess), but The Bitch, oh no, she doesn’t get it. She just has to go and be annoying and get too damn close, which always leads to you wishing you possessed some kind of burning eye ray (which you don’t, ‘cause you’ve tried to incinerate her limbs more than once), and to groping Obi-Wan in public, which always seems to make him mad. You don’t know why, really, he seemed perfectly happy that day you attacked him in the library, hoping that The Bitch would hear you two and give up… Of course, you didn’t count with her calling Master Yoda and… well, but that’s another story, isn’t it?  
              
The point is, anyway, that The Bitch was there, getting exceedingly close, as always. Very politely, you decided to ask her to please, walk next to another person like, pfft, Master Mundi, who had been looking rather lonely lately. When she didn’t comply, you made your point clearer, by putting your arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulder. When this second tactic failed, you grabbed the bull by the horns by squeezing his ass and sticking your tongue out at her, for good measure. This didn’t seem to please Obi-Wan so much. But really, who wouldn’t have done the same? Who? Well, of course, it would take having such a hot boyfriend as Obi-Wan to understand your dilemma, which would imply also being as gorgeous as you yourself are and… well, maybe no one would have done the same, after all.  
              
These kinds of situations are usually solved with you dragging your beloved Master to the closest room and proceeding to fuck him. Or be fucked by him. Or being lectured and then fucked. Or… well, back to the point: sex is usually the answer. But you couldn’t quite do that when Master Windu was looking at you with that expression of his that says ‘remove your hands from your Master’s butt, now’. Yes, he has and expression for that. So, no dragging anybody to any place, you had to settle for pouting. Which you can do very prettily, by the way.  
              
The rest of the tour, even when adorned by unpleasant events provoked mainly by The Bitch, wasn’t so bad. Specially because your pouting had seemed to get to Obi-Wan, and he was walking very close to you and very far away from her. Ha! And you didn’t even have to use the puppy dog eyes.  
              
And then, it happened. You entered the last room, and there it was. Big and red on the wall, with a huge sign that red ‘do not touch’ and, really, couldn’t they had painted the bloody thing white? But nooo, there it was, a RED BUTTON, capital letters and all. You’re so sure Windu just put it in there to temp you, the bastard. Really, is the kind of thing he would do. The Bitch, being… well, a bitch, smiled at you, smugly and knowingly, as if challenging you. The worst part of the whole business was that, well, she won. Come on! It was red and bright and you just had to push it. So you did, and Hell broke loose.  
              
It isn’t that bad, really, the button simply made the air conditioning systems stop working, exposing you to Coruscant's blinding summer heat, a situation which became even worse when the mechanics taking care of it screwed up, and made the things expel even more heat. Regardless of if this was truly your fault or no (which it wasn’t, really; they shouldn’t install red buttons around when they are perfectly aware of your problem), the Council is raving mad. The only person who actually thanked you is Master Vos, who now has a reasonable excuse to parade half naked around the Temple, to the delight of his multiple admirers.  
              
Despite the fact that the heat has become almost unbearable, it truly isn’t that bad. You’ve spent the past days lying on your bed, wearing just a pair of light pants and trying to think of something that’s not the sweat covering your body, which is rather hard, having in mind that you’re permanently dizzy, and that the room seems to sway every time you try to move. Bloody heat. Still, you could take it if it wasn’t for Obi-Wan. He’s so mad at you… but not the kind of mad that leads to screaming and then to hot and steamy make up sex. Or to sweet and adoring make up sex. Or to any kind of sex, for that matter. He is just sitting there, meditating, and completely ignoring you. And oh, yes, fully dressed, for Force’s sake. Hood and all. And he has to be hot, he has to be, but he is just being stubborn, and dammit but he’s good at it.  
      
You’ve tried taking him out of his state. First, there was your old trick of accidentally falling on his lap, which seemed to work just fine some years ago, when you were dwelling with your unrequited lust, which ended up being requited love. You tried doing a striptease, which has always been a good strategy, but he didn’t even open an eye, not even when you told him you had borrowed Quinlan’s leopard underwear, which you hadn’t, but that’s not the point, right? (What? The story of Quinlan and his underwear? Perhaps another time, ‘k?). After a while, you just run out of tricks, and decided to lie down on your bed and stare pointedly at him. Staring changed to glaring, but he still didn’t look at you, or move, or even acknowledged your presence. He can be so annoying when he wants to.  
      
So, there you are, lying down, half dying from the heat, and staring at your completely mad and sexy Master, who simply has to be hot. Oh! Oh, he so is. As a matter of fact, the tiniest drop of sweat is sliding down his neck, caressing that spot that you just know he loves to have licked by your smart tongue. Before you know it, you're crawling on the floor, chasing the drop with your eyes and, soon, with your tongue. And oh, but that feels good. Still, no reaction. So he wants to play like that, doesn’t he? Well, alright, you know he’s very good at this, but you, you’re better. You tell him so, and you smile because you know he wants to raise an eyebrow.  
      
First things first: you get up and take off your pants, because you really have no use for them anymore. You stand gloriously naked after throwing the offending piece of clothing away, and sigh when the illusion of cold air reaches your bare legs, which are as slick with sweat as the rest of your body. You sit down right on Obi-Wan’s lap, a gesture that doesn’t seem to alter him one bit. Stubborn, stubborn man. You shake your head, and then move his hands, so they rest on your bare thighs, while rocking a little bit, still with no visible results. Dammit, you’re just managing to make yourself even hornier.  
      
You lean forward and place a chaste kiss under his ear, trying to remove his cloak, to no avail. He’s just not moving! Still, you try, managing to free his shoulders, which are still covered by far too many capes of clothing, really. Your kiss becomes a shy lick, and soon you’re placing kisses, and licking, and sucking, and biting, down his throat, and jaw, and collarbone, and all that deliciously sweaty naked skin. You groan out of frustration when your mouth reaches thick clothing, and you swear that there was the flicker of a smile on his lips for the tiniest of seconds.  
      
Right, is time to go to part two: less clothing. So, you fight for what seems like hours with belt, and sash and, whoever said that Jedis are supposed to walk around in straightjackets? It’s completely illogical when it comes to sex purposes (so that’s probably because the life of a Jedi is not dedicated solely to sex, right?). Any case, you manage to open his clothes, because, after all, you are an expert when it comes to undressing Obi-Wan, and you slide your hand down a very sweaty chest, pinching a nipple almost distractedly, and leaning forward to bite Obi-Wan’s collarbone. Obi-Wan’s face is strangely cool, but the rest of his body seems to be just as hot as yours, small drops of sweat sliding down his chest and into your curios palm, which is now occupied massaging a firm pectoral, and hardening a dark nipple.  
      
You chuckle softly, not very sure why, but you think it’s probably because of the heat, which is making you slightly light-headed, and maybe because of Obi-Wan’s scent, so very intense now that there’s more naked skin to touch. Still, it doesn’t seem nearly enough, because he’s just not bloody moving. And just like that, you give up. Because, really, you’re not better than Obi-Wan at this, you have no patience, no self-control, and you want him to open his eyes, and touch you, and kiss you, and lick you, and you want him to do it now. Your voice produces half a whimper, half a moan, and the simplest of words: please. Please, please, please, Obi-Wan, I’m sorry I pushed the stupid button but please make love to me. Later, you will blame this on the heat. But, for now, there’s Obi-Wan’s eyes opening, a smirk settling on his lips, and your arms being pinned above your head on the floor. Wait there, floor? When the Hell did your back hit the floor? Damned heat.  
       
The point is, nonetheless, that Obi-Wan is above you, smiling widely and adorably and who really cares about the temperature at a moment like this? You pull him down and kiss him, light-headed and desperate, seeking his tongue with yours, and licking his lips and his breath, and claiming what is yours by right. You moan into the kiss, and your tongue vibrates with Obi-Wan's, whose hands are now dancing around your hips, pinning them to the floor. Your own hands travel down his still covered back, finding a place between his clothes and touching precious skin, digging your nails slightly into Obi-Wan’s waist when he bites your earlobe. Oh, so good. You thought he was never going to react. But he has, and he’s kissing you and touching you and… getting up and walking away? Huh?  
      
You sit up, trying to focus on the fact that Obi-Wan is walking away and not on the way his ass sways when he walks (which is actually a quite hard thing to do.). You call his name, and he just looks back and smiles at you, in what you hope is an inviting way. If it is or not, you decide to find out, and so you get up and follow him to the bathroom, where he’s turning on the shower and getting rid of all his clothes except for his pants. He enters the shower, pants and all, and you go right behind him, assuming his smile was a cordial invitation. When the cold water touches your skin, you gasp, and he smiles even wider. Smartass.   
      
You lean forward, but he pushes you against the cold tiles of the wall, and bites your neck, hard, murmuring then something about not pushing anymore red buttons in a while. You heartily agree, but still you mention that Windu probably had it installed just to tempt you. Obi-Wan chuckles, a low, rich, thick sound, and then his hands are everywhere, and his mouth is on your nipple, and your coherency is flying out the window. His hands hold your hips to the wall, stopping the rocking movement you had unconsciously started, and you moan when he moves against you, not letting you correspond. But soon his hands move up, his nails scratching you chest slightly, while you pull him as close as possible, forcing both of you to moan.  
      
You slid your hands down his back, reaching the wet fabric of his pants, wondering briefly why the Hell are they still on. You struggle with them, trying to get them off without separating from Obi-Wan, groaning when you realize that you’re going to have to do just that if you want them to disappear. In order to do so, you kneel and pull them down, not giving Obi-Wan time to complain by licking the underside of his straining erection, an action that has proved to be rather distracting on other occasions. Your hand closes around the base, getting where your mouth can’t reach, and you feel Obi-Wan leaning forward and supporting his own weight against the wall with the hand that’s not playing with your wet curls. You hold his hips and smile around him, loving every gasp and moan and oh, God, Anakin, please, coming out of his mouth. It’s just so much fun to make him loose his composure.  
      
He surprises you by pulling you up, but he kisses you before you have time to complain. Hard and wet and amazing, and oh, you love that thing he does with his tongue! Soon enough, your chest is against the tiles and Obi-Wan against your back, a finger dancing down to your buttocks. You should have known he was just trying to distract you, and you should probably try to say something about this, but is feels so good, the rocking, the touching, the kissing, and the finger that’s teasing you mercilessly. He kisses down your throat, and then bites a little, while all you do is moan, and groan against the wall, expecting him to just do something already. You don’t have to beg, because in one fast, hard, swift movement, he’s inside you. He stays still, adjusting your hips to his, kissing your shoulder, your back, your neck, murmuring your name softly against your hear, his voice so low and so very unlike your own, which is rising and rising among cries of please, and more, and fuck, and oh, sweet Force, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan.  
      
And then he moves, and you move, and it’s all amazing, and fucking fantastic, because he’s just thrusting in and out, and in and out, again, and again, and again, in a mindless, torturously slow way, until sparkles are dancing under your eyes, and his name becomes a litany between your lips. He’s groaning, and licking, ad kissing, and you know you’re both completely gone, totally high in the drug that’s making love to each other, marking skin, and yelling at the top of your lungs (well, maybe not him; you’re the screamer, after all). It’s too much, and not enough at the same time, and if your brain was actually working you will wonder how such a thing is possible.  
      
You hold on to his hips, trying to angle his erratic movements, and he reaches for your erection, which has been rubbing painfully against the wall. And suddenly, is all just too much, and you're coming on his hand, and against the wall, riding your orgasm until he explodes too, whispering your name seductively in your ear.  
      
It takes the both of you some time to come down from heaven, but when you do, you fall to the floor and he follows right behind you, resting his weight on your by now too cold chest. You wave your hand, and the cold water stops falling over the two you, whom are no longer sweaty but rather cold, actually. And then you laugh, because damn, you’re going to have to push red buttons more often. Obi-Wan chuckles, too, turning his eyes towards you and mouthing that there will be no more button pushing, unless you want to practice abstinence for the rest of your life. Ha! As if he could resist you. He shakes his head, and kisses you softly on the lips, going then down your chest and legs, reaching that tattoo on the inside of your thigh that he just loves so much. Oh, oh, yes. There is going to be so much button pushing in the future… you wonder if you’ll be able to convince Windu to install one that will lock Obi-Wan and you inside to Council room for a very long time.


End file.
